


Bound: the Knight and the Scavenger

by midnighteverlark



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Force Bond, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Visions, Kylo is a misguided idiot puppy, Lightsaber Battles, Mind Reading, Possessive Kylo Ren, Reylo - Freeform, Some actual happiness and comfort and stuff because tHEY NEED IT, Soulmates, rey is done with his shenanegans, they do eventually love each other though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-18 17:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12393141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnighteverlark/pseuds/midnighteverlark
Summary: After their battle on Starkiller Base, Rey and Kylo Ren find themselves connected, able to touch each other's minds across any distance - Force Bound. Drawn to each other by an invisible and constant pull, the two are stranded on opposite sides of a war. As time goes by, their friendship blossoms and the connection only becomes more powerful, it seems inevitable that one must leave their own cause for the other - unless, perhaps, a balance be achieved.Some moments of fluff because this ship needs it.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Right so I need a better title for this but I'M POSTING IT ANYWAY YOU CAN'T STOP ME.  
> Anyway enjoy this intro I wrote after literally starting to ship this couple like YESTERDAY. What just happened. I don't even know.  
> (I have big plans for this story and I swear I'll update it more than once in a blue moon.)

"She is strong with the Force. Untrained, but stronger than she knows."

Snoke’s enormous figure fizzles with static, but his eyes remain clear, focused down at his apprentice with a penetrating stare that holds neither warmth nor ice. It's a carefully calculated look, one that the apprentice knows well – part scheming, part disappointment, part twisted paternalism. He perches on his throne of black, each hand curled around an armrest, radiating energy. Even across light years of space, the apprentice can feel the darkness of the Supreme Leader’s mind as if they were truly in the same room. It's a presence as vast as his hologram, as dominating and unyielding as cold steel. It leaves no room for error or defiance.

"And the droid?" Snoke probes.

The apprentice shifts minutely, settling his dark helm further into the crook of his elbow. The truth is a slippery thing, and with a master such as Snoke, there is always the question of how much to reveal. He takes a shallow breath, but –

"Ren believed it was no longer valuable to us."

The voice cuts through the cavernous space with all the conceit and tonelessness of a crowing brezak, and the apprentice turns to the source. General Hux strides through the door and across the echoing space. "That the girl was all we needed. As a result, the droid has most likely been returned to the hands of the enemy. They may have the map already."

Snoke’s only expression is the quirk of one eyebrow and the forward tilt of his torso, but the slow, unmistakable heat of anger simmers throughout the room. "Then the Rebels must be destroyed before they get to Skywalker."

"We have their location." Hux is staring up at the Supreme Leader with a tight jaw, and the apprentice doesn't need the added intuition of the Force to tell him that the man is attempting to mask his fear with a façade bold enough to border on insolence. "We tracked their reconnaissance ship to the Ileenium system."

Snoke’s brow smoothes, save for the crooked rift in his skull. "Good. Then we will crush them once and for all. Prepare the weapon."

The apprentice gives a start. This isn't what he meant, not what he meant at all –

"Supreme leader." He steps forward and the hologram's colorless eyes move to him. "I can get the map from the girl. I just need your guidance."

Snoke sits back, contemplating. Then, quietly, "If what you say about this girl is true, bring her to me."

And he means to. He pulls the helmet back over his hair and advances through the base with such single-minded intensity that he sends troopers scattering. He tells himself that he covered his face for practicality only – that he didn't want to bother carrying the helmet – and refuses to think of the scavenger's eyes as she faced him down. _"A creature in a mask,"_ she growled, and it had been beyond satisfying to watch her face change as he lifted it from his skull. He obviously wasn't what she had envisioned, although that wasn't exactly unusual. People rarely expect to find long, dark hair, equally dark eyes and what he's been told is a pale, but somewhat attractive face behind the mask. Someone once described his features as _pinched, but sensitive_ \- a comment that did not get them killed only because Ren wasn’t sure what to think of the judgement. He's not exactly the very picture of the Dark Side – although, that in itself has its advantages. For instance, it caught the girl – Rey – off guard. Rey, that's what the traitor had called her, screaming after her even as their ship lifted off. An unusual name for a planet of the Western Reaches. Doubtless there's more to her than meets the eye – although, he knew that already.

She had entered his mind. That much he was sure of, though it lasted half a moment or less. He pounds down the hallway driven by a passion his Master would approve of as his head fills with details. Her mind brushed his for a painful, breathless, exquisite moment, and in that moment they knew each other. She was surprised. Curious. Frightened and pained, but magnificently so. A proud, wild creature, at once cold and furious, meeting his mental assault with bared teeth and unflinching eyes. Such spirit. If only she applied it, she would make a wonderful knight of Ren. And she had caught the Supreme Leader's interest. Few could claim that.  If he could turn her, show her the power of the Dark Side as his grandfather had shown him…

He imagines this dark, lovely creature at his side, clothed in garb fit for a warrior-queen, wielding a crimson saber of her own, a sister-apprentice to himself. She'll break quickly enough under the mind of Snoke. Or perhaps Snoke will even grant her to him as his own apprentice! He grins under the mask, knowing the expression is hidden. She'll be his – all his – to train and teach and nurture. He can show her so much.

He is so caught up in dreaming – foolishly, like a distracted acolyte – that he doesn't notice anything amiss until he nears her cell. The open door speeds his pulse and then his feet, and then he's standing in the room, staring down at the empty chair through the slits of his helmet.

"No."

Gone, _gone_ –

She used a mind trick on the guard, she must have. She's learning frighteningly quickly, without so much as a mentor, and it sets a searing rage in his bones. She's _his_ apprentice. His! She cannot, will not leave now.

His saber bursts to life, and then there are only the sparks and the flying chunks of red-hot debris and the burn of screams in his throat and the trembling resistance of the blade. The Force surges through him as he releases his agony on the empty chair, and he embraces the power with a savage delight. Having rent the chair - and most of the room - to smoking pieces, he turns his attentions to Rey. He can still feel her; she's not far. Her exact location eludes him.

But not for long.

Panting, dizzy, he channels the anger into power, and sets to following the trail of her mind.


	2. The Battle on Starkiller Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which their Bond is born - but they don't know it yet because they're trying to kill each other

The very trees vibrate. The planet, the earth itself, is tearing itself apart, falling away in chunks, sections of forest rending in two with a grinding, popping  _ crack. _ Like a bone breaking. Like the electric shiver of wires ripped in half, the ends raw and sparking. 

They battle where the ground is still intact, but Rey can’t seem to find stable footing. Maybe the forest floor is slipping apart, loose and bobbing as the ice in Maz’s drinks. Or maybe it’s her. Or maybe it’s him. She can sense him - not just hear his measured footsteps and the crackle of the snow on his saber, but feel him. In the interrogation cell it had been a glimmer lasting less than a second -  _ you’re afraid that you’ll never be as strong as Darth Vader  _ \- but now it follows her through the trees.  _ He _ follows her through the trees.

It’s last-second instinct that makes her thumb the button in her tumble, and for a moment the only light is that of the shivering crimson blade, and then she’s up and her own weapon flares to life once more. It illuminates the swirl of snow around her. She’s colder than she can ever remember being, cheeks burning at the touch of snow and wind, fingers stiff on the hilt.

He scrambles over the ledge after her and takes a wild swing, all fury. She can feel that too. She whirls just long enough to cut the leaning trunk between them, impeding his path for barely a moment. But it’s enough to put some distance between them and turn to face her assailant. Kylo Ren. Maskless, even paler than she last saw him. 

She remembers Finn and she  _ strikes _ \- beats aside his retaliation - retreats and strikes again. The tip of her saber drags through the snow and steam winds between snowflakes. She’s losing ground by the yard, grunting with effort at every clash of blades, and it’s obviously so very easy for him. He flourishes his lightsaber like he’s showing off. And maybe he is. Maybe that’s the only reason he hasn’t killed her yet. There’s no denying that he could if he wanted to. He could throw her a hundred yards without laying a finger on her, or knock her out again with a gesture, or probably just kill her in any number of ways, all with minimal effort. But instead he brings his saber down, again, again, and just as she’s wondering why she’s not dead yet, he wins. His saber locks with hers and with two powerful strides he shoves her back towards the recently-opened chasm in the earth. 

And still he doesn’t kill her. He pushes until she’s teetering backwards, spine bent, arms aching from the effort of keeping the heat of his saber from her face. And there he stops. 

“You need a teacher,” he says - spits, almost, his angular face reflecting the blue and red of the crossed sabers. 

Snow and wind have plastered strings of jet-black hair along his temple, and the detail is jarringly human in contrast with the unearthly glow. For the first time since the interrogation cell, his eyes are locked on hers, and the intensity nearly pushes her the rest of the way over the crumbling cliff. Rey expects to find malice there, or hate, or rage, or even just annoyance. She’s not sure what it is that she finds instead. 

“I can show you the ways of the Force.”

“The Force?” Rey breathes back, and her eyes flutter as something in her mind clicks. The interrogation cell, the trooper, the moment she turned the mental probe back on Kylo Ren. She closes her eyes. Concentrates. Tries to remember, tries to  _ feel _ -

The glimmer flares, and all at once she’s calm. The sibilant crackle of the sabers does not lessen in volume, and the snow swirls as thickly as ever, catching in her mouth, her eyelashes, the back of her neck, but it doesn’t matter anymore. There is something there. Faint, then stronger. Something like the energy she just barely grazed inside the base. This is closer, though, and somehow different, and almost warm.

She can feel just how effortless it would be for him to tip her over the edge now, while her eyes are closed and her focus has moved away from the blazing sabers mere inches from her skin, but somehow she knows he won’t. She knows, like she knew him in that cell.

Rey breathes in the intangible warmth. And she opens her eyes.

A snarl, a slip of her saber, and she’s behind him. It’s immediately different. She knows his movements, the way his dark figure twirls and arches between the silver trunks. His first blow is just as self-assured and powerful as before, but that  _ something _ is moving through her, and she lunges. 

She’s not afraid anymore.

Her brilliantly blue saber finds a sort of rhythm, slashing down one way and then the other as he blocks. Her next swing slices through a corner of his cape. He falls with a grunt and she steps back. Something stops her from attacking while he’s down. Once he stands, though, that’s a different matter, and a savage jab sends him stumbling again.

It’s strange, this energy that’s surrounding her now. It’s almost intimate. Like they’re having a conversation through their battle. She feels the same  _ presence _ that she did when she saw his thoughts, but now it’s... there’s... She doesn’t know. And she doesn’t have time to think about it. He recovers from his stumble, and she raises her weapon once again. She feels him move to deflect, feels the energy of his attack flow around her. The crimson blade is knocked aside, her boot slams into his gut, and she stands over him.

_ Pain, humiliation, rage - something else. _

_ Stay down, _ she silently urges him.

He doesn’t.

Rey is done. On his next swing, she clamps her hand down over his. Shoves his blade down until it sizzles in the snow. They both have a hand on each saber, and his body is close enough to hers that she can feel the warm mist of his breath as he groans in effort. The energy pulses through their hands where they grapple for the sabers.

It’s over. She rips her blade down, knocking his into the snow, and in the same movement gives a ferocious twist. This time, the white-hot blade finds flesh, and the Knight of Ren falls with a hoarse cry of pain. Rey almost imagines she can feel an echo of that pain, a flash of heat across her face and at her side, where blood has turned her opponent’s dark garments wet. 

The strange energy fades quickly, like a candle snuffed out, and Rey’s victory curdles as she remembers Finn. Abandoning her opponent in the snow, she races back to her friend.

It takes her several hours, long after they’re all safe in the Falcon, to notice that the warm  _ something  _ never completely faded from the very back of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm new to this ship so if you have a moment to comment I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


	3. Reaching Out

_Stay down._

The words echo in Kylo Ren’s mind as clearly as they did in the forest, though many agonizing hours have passed since then. His injuries are nowhere near lethal, and he’s suffered much worse, but they are numerous. The bruising, burning pain of the bowcaster shot in his side. A grazing cut to his upper arm, skin barely touched but scorched red and black from the heat of the saber. A shallow stab to the left shoulder. And the final blow: a brutal slice from brow to jaw. Two medical droids are attending to him now in a private room on the Finalizer. It’s taking far too long.

She only bested him because of his weakened state - his lip almost curls in self-disgust at the thought. Weakened. He was weak. His fath- _Han Solo’s_ face wouldn’t leave his vision, and he had to thump the bowcaster wound at his side to keep the haze of rage around him. The pain drove him on, drove away the things he didn’t want to see. He irritated the wound to the point of light-headedness, stumbling near the end of the fight, the snow turning fuzzy and luminescent in the glow of their sabers. Yes, she bested him only because of this.

And yet, bested him she had. And as exhaustion chips away at his pain and anger, he begins to think that there may have been something else at play.

_Stay down._

The words had come through her mind into his as easily as the image of the island. But he hadn’t pulled them from her. It had been she that sent the words, she that pressed the message into the silence.

He closes his eyes against the merciless white of medical lights. There’s no one here except the droids, and he can wipe their memories when they’re done. He can afford himself this small vulnerability. Behind the dull red of his eyelids, he tries to recreate the forest. Tries to sort through the memory. The roar of the planet being torn apart at their feet. The sharp-sweet, electric smell of ozone that rolled off the sabers in the frozen air. And the important part: the girl. Rey. Something had happened at the cliff. A shift, but not just that. Their minds had touched again - or at least they must have. How else could he have heard her warning without her mouth ever opening? It wasn’t just her predatory circling, or even the exquisite fire in her eyes. It had been clear, emphatic, and immediate as his own thoughts.

_Stay down._

He could be delusional from the incredible strain of the past day, but he can almost feel the echo of her mind in the very back of his.

* * *

He isn’t delusional.

It’s still there.

The helmet becomes more unbearable every minute, crushing down on the rawness of his wound, but he will not remove it. In some idiotic, childish way, he feels almost as though she will come pouring in if he takes it off.

She’s still _there._ The scavenger girl. It took him hours to notice, and he immediately slammed up every mental barrier he could muster when he finally did. It makes no sense. She was gifted, yes, especially after he made the mistake of guiding her to the Force on the edge of that cliff, but no one can maintain such a connection over such vast distances - and for hours! Perhaps the Supreme Leader possesses such an ability, but Ren has never heard of it happening before. And now - it makes no sense. It’s _her_. There can be no mistaking her energy. She’s bright and golden as the desert sands, and just as coarse - on the surface, at least. There’s a warmth and softness there too, under her outer layer of practicality and grit. He knows what she feels like, and he feels her now.

But how?

The realization slams into him so suddenly, after hours of fruitless meditation, that he nearly loses his balance. He guided her. He guided her to the force, feeling its power alongside her, making good on his offer. In a way... in that moment... he _had_ been her teacher.

This understanding turns his stomach sick with triumph and anger and nameless things.

He thinks again of the forest. Really thinks, this time, silencing his communicator and folding in on himself until he’s there again. He presses two fingers into his half-healed side, and with the deep pulse of pain comes the memory.

_His ribs burn like they’ve been cooked in acid, but for once it does nothing to summon strength. The girl cringes. The locked blades are inches from her nose, throwing her in a stark light. There’s a tremor in the Force, like a string plucked, and Kylo Ren recognizes the gravity of a defining moment. But there’s no decision to make here; his mind was made up when her mind first brushed his._

_“You need a teacher,” he says._

_His aim is not to intimidate, or force, or order, and his voice is more open than it has been in a long time. Even in the interrogation cell, he realizes, he spoke to her gently. No one else has drawn that tone of voice from him in years, and it redoubles that knot in his belly. She is his - she must be._

_“I can show you the ways of the Force.”_

_And, Maker, she’s so close that he can_ feel _the awareness begin to blossom in her, feel the way she opens herself to the Force with a whisper. She’s so focused on reaching for it that she forgets to guard against him, and he almost shivers. He reaches back._

_Her eyes open and stare into his, and he can’t move. She, on the other hand, suffers no such paralysis. A lithe twist sends her tumbling into the snow behind him and their battle lurches back into motion._

_The familiar anger returns in the form of irritation and he falls back on it with something nearing relief. He helped her and she turned on him without a second thought. He lands a powerful blow - which she deflects with ease. Subsequent attacks meet the same end. His foot skids on a chunk of packed snow. He’s stepping_ back. _He’s losing ground._

_By the time he starts putting more effort into his attacks, it’s already too late. Her saber slices through the bottom of his cape, coming close enough to unbalance him, and then she lands her first real hit. Pain goes off like a flash grenade in his shoulder._

_A touch of awe colors his annoyance. The flash and dart of her saber mirrors his own. A few minutes ago her handling of the weapon was clumsy at best. She swung it like a truncated quarterstaff and struggled to balance the blade. Now the awkwardness falls away, and underneath is light, and fury, and the Force. If she was beautiful in the base, proud and strong and defiant, she is glorious now. Teeth bared, stance low, she stalks towards him._

_Snowflakes dance around her as she advances, deliberate and predatory, and there’s a strange pang in Ren’s gut. He doesn’t have time to puzzle it out before he’s scrambling to his feet, near dizziness with the intensity of the vibrations in the Force. There’s an edge to it he hasn’t felt before. An immediacy._

_All traces of lighter emotions are snuffed out when she slams his saber - and them himself - into the snow. He’s done with this game now. He goes to stand, to finish the fight, when -_

Stay down.

_Maybe it’s surprise that costs him his victory. Maybe if he hadn’t paused, just for a moment, to wonder at the message she so easily shot through his walls, he would have overpowered her. But all at once there’s a blinding pain ripping over his face, and the last thing he sees before he falls is the blue of her saber._

In his chambers, Kylo Ren lifts a hand, stopping just short of the wound. He feels, now, what he hadn’t fully registered on Starkiller Base. He reaches out, like he did then, and - yes, she’s there. Faint but unmistakable.

He hesitates, retreats, and deliberates. He underestimated her once. She needs guidance, yes, but save for that she could almost be his equal.

Then he glowers. Why tread carefully around this scavenger girl? Strong as she may be, he is stronger, and has undergone years of extensive training to boot. It’s laughable for him, Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, to worry about the untrained strength of a scrawny scavenger from Jakku. And he’ll have to test his theory before moving forward with any plans.

He immerses himself in the Force, grasps the warm, humming connection, and gives it a tug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do let me know what you think :)


	4. Curiosity

Rey’s skull whacks smartly against the low ceiling of the maintenance shaft and she yelps. Chewbacca’s questioning growl echoes down the narrow space and she yells back, “Fine!” He nods and his large, furry face retreats back into the Falcon’s lounge. The rough landing on Starkiller hadn’t exactly been gentle on the ship, and girl and wookie both threw themselves into repairs. It was a necessity if they wanted to follow the completed map to Luke Skywalker, and moreover, it was a distraction.

Picking up her tool, Rey sets to work on the open panel once more. She’s been jumpy for the past day or so. She feels like she’s being watched - well, not exactly watched, but like  _ something  _ is there. Like if she turns suddenly she’ll just barely catch a glimpse of someone retreating around a corner.

She isn’t sure what startled her this time. Not a sound. It was a feeling, intangible but real. Like a buzz at the back of her skull, sending goosebumps down her spine. She rubs at her neck and works her fingers between two wire bundles to access a troublesome screw.

It  _ pings  _ through her head again. And this time, she does hear something. A thought, but not her own.

_ Rey. _

The old wires crinkle under her stiffening fingers. The Force is something new to her, wobbly and strange as a newly hatched steelpecker, but Maz told her it would guide her, and she trusts Maz. So she’s been listening for it - casting around, trying to open herself the way she did on the cliff. Trying to tap into that ocean of power, feeling, knowledge, time, life. But since she fled the crumbling forest, she’s only been able to brush against little bits and pieces before it disolves like smoke between her fingers. Now, something in her gut shrivels up and goes cold. In all her efforts, could she have opened herself up to something other than the Force? Could her attempts have left her vulnerable? 

It’s him. She can tell, even before the fears have played out in her mind. Panicked, gasping, she rips her arm out of the maintenance panel and huddles against the wall. As if that will help her.

_ Go away, _ she shoots back. She’s not sure exactly how to send the message, so she tries to broadcast it out, flinging the words into the space around her, into her uncertain connection to the Force.  _ Get out! _

For a moment there’s only the hum and thump of the ship’s inner workings, and she thinks maybe she made a mistake. The wall of the maintenance shaft is cold against her cheek, and she peels herself away from the metal to sit up straight. Well, as straight as she can without banging her head again. It could have been nothing - couldn’t it? She had been so sure though. It felt like him. Like Kylo Ren. Just for a second, she had sensed the conflict, the immense and frightening power, the arrogance, the sadness. All things she felt on Starkiller Base when she turned his probe back on him, reached past the self-assured mask and plucked out something entirely unexpected. This towering, dark creature of unquestionable power felt inadequate.

Curious, she extends a tendril of thought, pokes around in the energy of the Force, and draws back as quickly as she can.

No. It was no mistake. He’s still there. The muscles of her jaw ache as she tenses against him, her body straining to do what her mind cannot. She tries to close herself off, but she’s woefully unpracticed at constructing mental barriers, and she can tell it’s not working. So, options low, she tries what worked last time. She pushes back. And meets absolutely no resistance.

The shock is so complete that it knocks the fear from her mind like breath from lungs. Last time she had dipped one hand past his barriers, completely by accident, and come out with a scrap of knowledge. Now she’s immersed in him. The rush of information is enough to make her forget her purpose, and for several heartbeats she simply floats, confused and overwhelmed and curious. His own curiosity reflects back at her. She finds that if she reaches a little deeper she can make out dim lighting, the throb of healing wounds, and the low-level drone associated with space travel. He makes no move to push her away or close himself off from her, and it’s this in itself that jolts her back to reality. A trick. This is a trick.

Then she’s gathering the fear back around herself like armor, hiding behind her suspicion, arming herself with thorns of hostility. She rears back, away from his surroundings, away from the rich, volatile matter of his mind - and thumps the back of her head on the wall.

“Agh!” she exclaims, more out of frustration than pain. Then, silently,  _ How did you find me? Go away. Just go away! _

_ Wait. _

_ I’m not telling you anything. _

Annoyance bubbles through the... the... whatever bridge connects them across lightyears of space. The Force, she thinks, though she hasn’t heard of the Force doing something like this before. Then again, she doesn’t know much about the Force in the first place. She isn’t sure of anything except that she doesn’t want this, not again, not now. Not after everything. She won, dammit, and that’s supposed to be the end of it.

And yet, this isn’t like it was in the interrogation cell. The pain she expected simply isn’t there. On Starkiller the pressure of a foreign mind shuffling around in her memories had manifested as a piercing headache, spreading from the inside out, alerting her that something wasn’t right, that there was a threat, that she needed to fight back. It was a battle as real and taxing as the one in the forest. But this... this is nothing like that. There’s no struggle. No discomfort. He’s just  _ there, _ as if he always has been.

_ I don’t intend to fight you. _

She snarls.  _ Stop that. Get out of my head. I’m not telling you anything. Just leave me alone. _

_ Listen -  _

_ I’m not listening to anything you have to say. _

He’s angry now, and that’s something familiar. An angry Kylo Ren is somehow less disconcerting than a calm one.  _ Yes, you are.  _

She sets her jaw, settles into the Force as well as she can, feels it swirl around her, and slams a barrier over their connection. She waits, breath stuck in the back of her throat. It holds. 

Slowly, she breathes out. One dirty, grease-slick hand lifts to the front of her tunic. Her heart kicks at her ribs, fluttering under her fingers. Her head spins. Something about the interaction needles at her. If only he had been aggressive, or forceful, or even just defensive. Instead she had encountered - what? 

_ A ploy to find the Resistance through me, _ she decides as she goes crawling for her tools. She returns to her repairs with a vengeance. The sooner she can get the Falcon up and running, the sooner she can find Luke Skywalker. Maybe he can teach her to guard against this kind of thing. 

She yanks out, inspects, repairs and replaces, all the while ignoring the near-silent hum at the back of her mind. She’s wriggling out of the maintenance shaft by the time she picks apart exactly why the whole thing bothers her so much. By all rights, the mind of Kylo Ren should feel cold, merciless, calculating,  _ evil.  _ That’s the way it should be, that’s... that’s the way he is. Except he isn’t. And Rey can’t reconcile how things should be with what she actually felt. Because of all the things she should have encountered in the mind of a killer, loneliness isn’t one of them. And the bone-deep ache is so familiar to her that it’s as if his desperate, half-repressed longing speaks directly to her soul.


End file.
